The next day, Chow began preparing for my wedding, saying it was better to seize the day rather than wait for an auspicious date. He went to a paper shop in town to buy red paper, bamboo strips, red silk, candles, and various other items. He cleared out the storage room to set it up as our bridal chamber.
“Lan, marriage is a big deal. Shouldn’t you inform your parents?” Chow asked, adjusting his glasses as he cut the paper.
“What should I say? That I’m marrying the Yellow River Maiden and might never give them grandchildren?”
“It’s up to you. As long as you’re willing to accept this marriage, that’s what matters. But let me make this clear: the Yellow River Maiden will be your official wife. No matter how successful you become in the future, she’ll be your only wife.”
“Are you saying I might have the chance to take a concubine later?” I asked.
“Hahaha, nice thought. If you’re looking for a shorter life, go ahead and try.”
Sigh. Life has its joys and sorrows, just as the moon waxes and wanes. This is an age-old truth. I became a corpse retriever to earn money and marry, but now, before I’ve even made a fortune, I’m destined to live a lonely life.
Chow had once joked that marrying the Yellow River Maiden would bring endless pleasures, but that was just him teasing me. Yin and yang are separate realms. The Yellow River Maiden is a ghost, and her prolonged presence in the mortal world would harm both of us. Even after marriage, I’d be living alone, with her only appearing in the dead of night to talk or perhaps in a fleeting dream, leaving no trace afterward.
But to save my life, I had no choice.
At dusk, the time when demons roam, I knelt on a cushion in the main room, quietly waiting for the Yellow River Maiden. Bright red candles flanked the altar, and in the center was a one-foot-tall, three-inch-wide ebony memorial tablet, covered with a red cloth and bearing no inscription.
The moment between the hours of *you* (5-7 PM) and *xu* (7-9 PM) is known as the “time of demons,” the boundary between day and night. Legend has it that during this time, ghosts and demons roam freely, sharing the mortal world with humans.
Chow said the Yellow River Maiden would inscribe her name on the tablet during this time, and only after that could the wedding proceed.
I waited calmly, initially feeling a sense of absurdity, but gradually that feeling faded, replaced by a solemn reverence. I thought about the Yellow River Maiden’s life—a beautiful, unmarried girl who could sing and dance. In our region, which isn’t known for its beauties, such a girl would have been the dream of countless men.
Yet, because of a sacrificial ritual, she was wrapped in silk, coated with tung oil, and sunk into the Yellow River, destined to live in the dark depths for centuries.
In modern times, the Yellow River King and his sixty generals have faded from memory, but the Yellow River Maiden, due to her unresolved resentment, remains a wandering ghost, bound until the river dries up.
Thinking this, I felt a pang of affection for the Yellow River Maiden who was to marry me. I resolved that if I married her, I’d treat her well and not let her remain lonely.
A cold wind swept through, lifting the red cloth to reveal delicate handwriting: *Hua, willing to be your wife…*
Before I could fully read it, the words vanished, replaced by a hastily scrawled character: *逃* (Escape).
Before I could process this, a storm erupted outside, rattling the doors and windows. The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness.
I wanted to see what was happening, but I was powerless, as if drowning in the dark. My ears were filled with chaotic sounds, but I could see nothing.
“Lan, come home for dinner.”
“Lan, you’re skipping work again. Do you want to keep your job?”
“Lan, I’m sorry. We’re from different worlds.”
…
I heard many voices calling my name, some familiar, some not. I wanted to respond, but I couldn’t speak.
I don’t know how long this state lasted, but the door suddenly burst open, and Chow stumbled in, covered in blood. He grabbed a water monkey pelt, wrapped one around himself, and threw another over me.
I asked what was happening, but he didn’t answer, just stared intently at the door.
Outside, the storm raged, and I heard footsteps splashing through the water. As the figure approached, I saw it was a woman in a crimson wedding dress, a red veil covering her face, and holding a red umbrella.
She stood at the threshold, not entering.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“What do you think?” she replied with a giggle.
“It’s not too late to turn back. Don’t make a mistake that will condemn you to eternal suffering under Yin Mountain,” Chow shouted, shielding me.
“Giggle, it’s not me who needs to turn back. Even the City God and the underworld don’t interfere with my affairs. How could a mere corpse retriever stop me?”
As she stepped over the threshold, Chow threw a water monkey pelt at her, but she tore it apart like paper.
“Chow, I respect your merits and don’t want to kill you. But if you interfere today, I will,” she said coldly.
“Aren’t you afraid the Yellow River Maiden will hold you accountable?” Chow growled.
“Giggle, she’s in no position to help her beloved now.”
With that, she stepped inside and walked toward me. Chow tried to stop her with another pelt, but she simply said, “Scram,” and he stumbled out of the room as if possessed.
The door closed behind him, and the candles relit, but with a green, eerie flame. The room was now filled with a chilling atmosphere.
She stood before me, a vision of a bride in red, the stuff of many men’s dreams. But I didn’t dare lift her veil, and even without seeing her face, I knew who she was.
A woman who had suffered a lifetime of abuse, pushed into the river to die. In life, she was a fool; in death, she became a vengeful ghost, first killing Cai, then wiping out the butcher’s family.
“Xiang, turn back. Your past karma is settled. It’s not too late,” I pleaded.
Xiang wasn’t like Cai. Against him, I had a chance, but against her, I was helpless. If I couldn’t fight, I’d try to reason with her. Kneeling and begging was out of the question—I’d seen enough horror movies to know that only led to a more gruesome death.
“Giggle, Lan, do you want to know why I won’t let you go?” Xiang asked.
“Yes.”
Honestly, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Retrieving corpses is a meritorious act. The events that followed were beyond my control. I’m not Buddha; I can’t see the past or the future.
“You’re twenty-seven this year. Did Chow tell you this is your *feng jiu* year?” Xiang asked.
In our region, there’s a belief that every ninth year (9, 18, 27, etc.) is a year of great danger, known as the *feng jiu* year. Last year, I said I was twenty-seven, but that was in lunar years. This year, I’m truly twenty-seven.
Legend has it that on the first day of the lunar new year, the King of Hell flips through the Book of Life and Death, randomly summoning those in their *feng jiu* year. Those summoned must report to the underworld within the year. Even those not summoned will face great misfortune and must tread carefully.
Hearing this, I was stunned. “What do you mean?”
“This year, the King of Hell summoned only one person—you. Killing those who wronged me doesn’t concern the heavens, but killing you would grant me immense yin merit.”